The water droplet was getting tired as it wound its way down the window pane.

It had had a long journey, starting the day before in a field in Devon, being sucked up by the morning sun. Then it had developed delusions of grandeur, becoming part of a cloudbank that just now was making the area around UNIT's UK headquarters dank, dark, and thoroughly British.

The Brigadier's office was fairly dark, as well - the single green-shaded desk lamp being a twin concession: to recent austerity measures in the budget and the fact that there were two humanoids in the room, one of whom presumably needed light to see.

Sarah Jane Smith was taking advantage of the fact that the Brigadier was absent down the hall, apparently having some bits of shouting he needed to do, to wander about the office being nosy. She felt it her duty: after all, she was a reporter. She toyed absently with the papers on the desk. The fact that most of them were marked "MOST SECRET" in large, unfriendly letters didn't faze Sarah Jane, as she'd never signed the Official Secrets Act. She stifled a yawn.

The top pages appeared to be concerned with Justification of Expenses. The budget again, she supposed. She giggled as she read, 'Alien invaders, for the suppression of. Submachine gun ammunition, 700 rounds.'

Sarah Jane mentally rolled her eyes. 'Chap with the wings there, five rounds rapid,' she thought. The Brigadier was, well, the Brigadier.

She shivered, though, and rubbed her arms. It was getting chilly. She could murder a cup of tea....she went to the cupboard, but hesitated to open it. What if something were lurking in there...something evil, alien...? Sarah Jane gave herself a good mental kick. Too much imagination, girl. She opened the alien-free cupboard and took down a tin of Twining's, then set about her self-appointed task.

'Do you want a cuppa, Doctor?' she asked, then turned with a frown. 'Doctor...'

The impossibly long figure stretched out by the window - booted feet on the Brigadier's desk, greatcoated form lounged back in a swivel chair, ridiculously long scarf wrapped around its neck - turned a face full of teeth and curls away from its contemplation of the rain and towards Sarah and...well, grinned.

'The cup that cheers, he, Sarah? Actually, I'd rather have a Pleiadian Palate-Paralyzer, but as the nearest Pleiadian pub is a few light-years away, and I've promised the Brigadier we'd wait around for him...' He grinned again at Sarah's exasperated look. '...a cup of tea will do nicely, thanks.'

As he spoke, the book he had been reading slipped from his lap. He caught it deftly, and Sarah Jane could see the cover. She wrinkled her slightly retrousse nose as she read aloud. 'The Big Bang, a Personal View, by Eccentrica Gallumbits? An old friend, perhaps?' As she turned to put the kettle on, Sarah muttered to herself, 'Probably very old.'

The Doctor pretended (?) outrage. 'Why, Sarah! I hardly know the lady,' he protested, swinging his feet off the desk (and dislodging several weeks' worth of Incident Reports in the process). 'Besides, ' He added reflectively, 'I don't date outside my species.'

A mechanical beep, and the opening of the closet door, caused Sarah Jane to leap back in fright, her hand to he chest in alarm. But it was only the Doctor's other companion, who nosed the door open and came rolling into the room, his red eyes flashing in contradiction.

'That statement is inaccurate, Doctor,' said K9 as he rumbled across the office, managing to avoid several awkward bits of furniture but becoming stuck on a dropped bit of paper. The Doctor bent to retrieve the paper and looked at K9 in a quizzical two-shot.

'When did I ever...?' he asked. The mechanical dog managed to sound - as usual - both mechanical and...well, smug as it answered, 'A thorough perusal of your diaries reveals exactly 342 separate incidents in which you became involved with ladies of other species, including the interplanetary scandal in which...mmmph...'

This noise was occasioned by the Doctor's placing a large hand over K9's muzzle, thereby preventing further, possibly juicy, revelations. 'Shh,' he chided. 'You are telling tales out of school. Bad form, K9. Now. If I let go will you be a good boy? Oops!' as muffled noises indicated an attempt to speak, 'Nod your head if you agree.'

K9 nodded slowly, once. The Doctor took his hand away and patted K9 on the head. 'There! Good dog!' K9 whirred off into a corner to sulk and recharge his batteries.

Sarah Jane continued her tea preparations. Regaining his seat by the window, the Doctor looked at her with concern. 'Sarah Jane,' he mused, 'you've become entirely too jumpy lately. You act as if you led an irregular life.' As Sarah Jane looked up in protest, he held up an admonishing hand. 'Too many late nights, is my guess. Now...' The Doctor laid a long finger aside an equally long nose, 'what you need is a holiday.' He settled back in his swivel chair, accepting the cup of tea Sarah Jane handed him and making room for her to pull up a folding chair. 'Now, let's see...the Eye of Orion is quite nice, or there's Blackpool...'

Sarah Jane laughed. 'If we went to Blackpool, Doctor, somehow the Daleks would invade the Illuminations. Or the Sontarans. Or the Cybermen...' She sighed, not unhappily, as she sipped her tea appreciatively, perched almost primly on her hard chair, knees and ankles together, cup of tea in both hands. Her eyes twinkled as she looked at him. 'Let's face it, Doctor, life with you is bound to be exciting. And a bit stressful.'

The Doctor smiled at her, leaning back in this chair.

'Oh, I don't know, Sarah, ' he said. 'It's very much like something Beethoven said to me once - only in German, you know...he said, you see this mark on the score? Rather irascible, was old Ludwig....anyway, I said, yes, of course, it's a quarter rest...Ludwig said, you have to play the rests...you know how to play the rests, don't you? I shook my head, who was I to spoil a good story, not I...you don't, I said...he nodded...'

The Doctor turned his beaming, slightly mad face to study Sarah Jane's, looking for comprehension. 'Ludwig said, that's exactly it...you don't.'

And the Doctor turned to the window, his forefinger tracing the journey of a water droplet on its way down the windowpane.

Sarah Jane Smith sighed and sipped and watched the Doctor watching.

And if, during that brief teatime of the soul, someone had asked, 'What does a flashing blue light mean to you?' Either would have replied, 'Less than the patter of the rain against a windowpane.'

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